Against the Current in the Silent Service

By Richard W Herman

What happens when indomitable will meets entrenched authority?

 

A young enlisted sailor works with dogged determination to achieve his dream and become a commissioned officer-but is thrown into the unfamiliar world of the Si

• Language: English
• Publisher: Giro di Mondo
• Release date: Nov 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737138884

Richard W Herman

Commander Richard W. Herman, winner of the 2021 Florida Authors and Publishers Association President's Awards GOLD Medal, was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota. While attending the University of Minnesota in 1965, he received his draft notice and chose to enlist in the U.S. Navy. He served 10 years as an enlisted sailor and then received his commission through the Limited Duty Officer Program, retiring in 1997 at the rank of commander. He is entitled to wear the Legion of Merit, the Meritorious Service Medal with two stars, the Navy Commendation Medal with one star and the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal with two stars. During his career spanning over 30 years, he was a communication specialist and at retirement was the senior submarine communications officer in the Navy. Commander Herman now resides in Fernandina Beach, Florida, with his wife Kathy their Olde English Bulldog, Sissy and two Boston Terriers, Roxy and Stella. Visit the author at www.rwherman.com.

Book preview

Contents

Early Praise for Against the Current in the Silent Service

Praise for The Unopened Letter

Copyright Page

Dedication

U.S. NAVY RATES/RANKS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABBREVIATIONS AND ACRONYMS 

About the Author 

Early Praise for

Against the Current in the Silent Service

Commander Herman has clearly and succinctly portrayed his voyage through a Naval career. He has shared his ups and downs, and the fact that when ‘a door closes, many more open.’ Better than a ‘morality play,’ this book demonstrates what a person can achieve with a focus on self-discipline and self-esteem!

-Al Konetzni, Vice Admiral, (USN-Ret.)

Not qualified in submarines, and therefore considered unfit to be either accepted or even survive in his new environment, the author tells a fabulous story about how knowledge, competence, and sheer willpower can overcome any obstacle.

-Emmett Henderson, Lieutenant Commander (USN-Ret.), Submariner

Tremendous read! I felt I was by [his] side living the experience with [him]. ...truly a gifted writer...a reason to love, respect and support our military men and women for the sacrifices they make.

-Jackie Irene, Hamel, Minnesota

This book brought back many memories. There are many parallels between [a] military career and law enforcement career. Personalities, teamwork, rank structure and the ups and downs of working within these institutions. [Herman] not only faced and survived many impediments, [he] actually thrived.

-Roger Willow, Bloomington, Minnesota, Retired Chief of Police

Veterans love stories about the military and a book by RW Herman through his perspective as an officer is enlightening.

-Jeff Williams, Air Force veteran, Daytona Beach, Florida

A story that every service member can relate to. This book should be on the bookshelf of every Navy vet.

-Tim Heddlesten, RMCM (SW) (USN-Ret.), Bradenton, Florida

Praise for The Unopened Letter

R.W. Herman’s first book, The Unopened Letter, received the 2021 President’s Book Award Gold Medal from the Florida Association of Authors and Publishers and has won many fans among readers of all ages.

R.W. Herman brings the Vietnam-era Navy to your doorstep. As a fellow mustang officer, I can say this book is extremely accurate and a must-read for all history lovers. Buy two, then give one to a veteran.

—J.R. Sharp, CDR. (USN-Ret.), award-winning author of

Feeding the Enemy series

A simple letter catapults Herman into a life-defining adventure for which he was unprepared. How he deals with his predicament will capture your soul and cause you to compare his experiences with your own… engaging, as only a few written works are capable. Herman’s story is heartwarming, at times humorous, exciting, chilling…

—Emmett Henderson, Lieutenant Commander (USN-Ret.)

Amazing book! I couldn't put it down. Your work is truly beautiful ... When is the next one? I want more!

—Keith Post, Retired Navy, Executive Director,

St. Mary’s Submarine Museum

Visit the author’s website at www.rwherman.com.

Copyright Page

Against the Current in the Silent Service

Copyright © 2022 by R. W. Herman

This is a work of creative nonfiction. The events are portrayed to the best of the author’s memory. While all the stories in this book are true, some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher or copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Contact: [e-mail], or

[e-mail]

Published by Giro di Mondo Publishing,

a subsidiary of The Ottima Group, LLC

Fernandina Beach, Florida

https://www.girodimondo.com

Printed in the United States of America.

Cover and interior by Roseanna White Designs

Cover image provided by the St. Mary’s Submarine Museum, St. Mary’s, Georgia

Editing by Emily Carmain, Noteworthy Editing

Author photo by Boston Photography of Fernandina Beach, FL

FIRST EDITION (Hardcover print)

ISBNs: 978-1-7371388-9-1 (Hardcover)

978-1-7371388-7-7 (Paperback)

978-1-7371388-8-4 (Digital)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022911329

Dedication

To all the men and women who wear

the coveted submarine warfare insignia

DOLPHINS

* * *

With special recognition to those who shared my

adventure along the way

Jan Berriter Albert Big Al Konetzni

Jerry Blesch Mary Kunges

Gary Cooper Bill Large

Bruce Cosby George McCarty

Joseph P. Crociata Henry C. McKinney

Robert Dulin Johnny C. Moore

Pamela Dunn Mark Mukanos

W.G. Jerry Ellis James P. Norton

Gina Engh Robert Pearce

Robert Gay J. Guy Reynolds

Karen Haines Thomas J. Robertson

Tom Harold R.L. Spaulding

Chester Tim Heddlesten Michelle Syriac-Smith

Rosetta Heddlesten Bernard Thompson

Jennifer Helgeson Gene Vetter

Emmett Henderson Steven A. White

* * *

This book is written in loving memory of Shirley Stephenson Herman, the wind beneath my wings, who was called to be with the Lord in 2010.

U.S. NAVY RATES/RANKS

Enlisted

E-1 Seaman Recruit (SR)

E-2 Seaman Apprentice (SA)

E-3 Seaman (SN)

E-4 Petty Officer Third Class (PO3)

E-5 Petty Officer Second Class (PO2)

E-6 Petty Officer First Class (PO1)

E-7 Chief Petty Officer (CPO)

E-8 Senior Chief Petty Officer (SCPO)

E-9 Master Chief Petty Officer (MCPO)

Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy (MCPON)

Officer

O-1 Ensign (Ens)

O-2 Lieutenant Junior Grade (LTjg)

O-3 Lieutenant (Lt)

O-4 Lieutenant Commander (Lcdr)

O-5 Commander (Cdr)

O-6 Captain (Capt)

O-7 Rear Admiral Lower Half (Radm)

O-8 Rear Admiral Upper Half (Radm)

O-9 Vice Admiral (Vadm)

O-10 Admiral (Adm)

A list of abbreviations and acronyms can be found in the back.

Chapter 1

May 7, 1979, Norfolk, Virginia

At exactly 0900, an office door opened, and a commander with silvery-white, wavy hair came out. Ensign Herman, come on in. I’m Commander Porter, he said, shaking my hand. Take a seat. Welcome aboard, finally. I guess you realize you’re a month behind your peers, who checked in the day after becoming officers. You’ve got some catching up to do.

Through no fault of my own, I was delayed in reporting to the headquarters of the Commander, Submarine Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet (COMSUBLANT)—having been on a ship in the middle of the ocean when I received my commission—but I had hoped that wouldn’t be an issue right away. Not off to a great start, I thought as I sat in a chair in front of his desk next to a lieutenant commander whose nametag said Hammer. He nodded to me but didn’t offer to shake hands.

Cdr. Porter looked at Lcdr. Hammer and said, What do you think? Is that uniform this ensign is wearing correct?

Probably not, Hammer said without looking. New ensigns never know how to wear the uniform properly.

I couldn’t figure out what might be wrong with my uniform and felt somewhat uneasy. Then they both burst out laughing.

We’re just messing with you, the commander said. Seriously, it’s great having you. Congratulations on becoming a limited duty officer (LDO). By the way, he said with a grin, the reason Lcdr. Hammer looks so old is that he’s an LDO and has been on active duty almost thirty years. That should be a goal you set for yourself.

To say I was impressed was an understatement. On the USS Cambria during my first enlistment, I’d met my first LDO, Lieutenant Vargas, and I had put him on a pedestal as someone to emulate. I knew that fewer than three out of a hundred enlisted personnel were qualified to apply for this program, and only one percent of those were chosen. Now, I met my first LDO to achieve the rank of lieutenant commander. Wow.

Down to business, Cdr. Porter continued. We run the communications for all submarines in the Atlantic Fleet from right here. I expect you to go in there and qualify as communications watch officer (CWO), which means their safety will be in your hands. I cannot stress enough how important that job is. That is why only officers stand that position.

Suddenly he stopped talking and stared at my chest. Where are your dolphins? I knew he was looking for the distinctive submarine warfare pin that qualified submariners wear over their left shirt pocket.

I don’t have dolphins, Commander, I said. I’m not qualified in submarines.

He jumped up from his desk, his face turning fiery red. What do you mean you aren’t qualified in submarines? he screamed. "Why are you even here? You can’t be stationed here if you’re not qualified in submarines. Who is the idiot who made you an officer? Get out! Get out of my face, out of my office, and out of this command. Now! Go!"

I stood and didn’t know what to do. Hammer kept sitting there, shaking his head, but said nothing. His expression said it all. Get out. I left.

As I walked down the passageway from the office, I could hear Cdr. Porter still shouting. He was telling someone to get the detailer at the Bureau of Naval Personnel on the phone and yelled that he not only was getting my orders canceled, but also was going to make sure I was canceled. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.

Earlier this morning, I thought to myself, Navy Ensign Richard Herman had a nice ring to it. Now, I sat in my car in the parking lot, completely devastated. Could things have gone any worse? This should be one of the happiest days in my life. I’m married, with two beautiful little boys. I’ve just become an officer in the U.S. Navy, and a bright future should be mine for the taking. Instead, I sit here stunned, humiliated, unwanted.

I rubbed my forehead; it felt cold and numb. What had I gotten into? Or should I ask, what had the Navy gotten me into? I felt like I’d been set up to fail. It makes no sense. Think, Rich. I closed my eyes and tried to get my thoughts in order.

I had returned this past weekend from four months aboard the USS Richard L Page (FFG-5), and my life had changed drastically while at sea. After ten years of enlisted service, I had earned an honor that I’d long hoped to achieve. When I’d left in January, I was wearing my enlisted first-class petty officer uniform. I came home in my officer’s dress blue uniform, and my family, welcoming me at the Norfolk airport, saw me for the first time as a Navy ensign.

My big day had come April 2, 1979, with a ceremony on the ship’s deck in 115-degree heat while conducting wartime exercises in the Indian Ocean. My commanding officer had the entire crew fall in to witness the swearing in. A Navy tradition is that a new officer must give the first enlisted sailor to salute him a silver dollar. Several battled for that honor. I happily saluted and gave my silver dollar to my own division’s youngest radioman as the entire crew cheered. At age nineteen, he was the same age I’d been when I became a sailor in 1966—soon after receiving a draft notice and deciding to enlist in the Navy. At that age, I had never heard of a limited duty officer, much less thought of becoming one.

Because of our operations tempo and the Navy’s needs, I could not get relieved and transferred from the ship until a month after my commissioning, but I was home now and looking forward to starting my career as an officer.

I had to admit, when I first learned I would be given a submarine designator, I was concerned. After all, I had never served on a submarine, let alone qualified as a crew member. The closest I’d been to one of those vessels was being stationed on a submarine tender, but that’s a surface ship that repairs subs.

I had contacted my career assignment officer at the Bureau of Naval Personnel and asked if I would be going to submarine school and qualifying in that arena. He informed me that wasn’t the Navy’s plan and said I would be going directly into a submarine communications officer’s billet, where I could learn everything necessary. I received orders to report to Commander, Submarine Force U.S. Atlantic Fleet, Norfolk, as soon as possible.

Evidently, Cdr. Porter had the same apprehension I’d initially felt. Without warning, it must have been such a shock to see me sitting before him as a new officer, not qualified in submarines, that he overreacted. I hoped that was all. Regardless, after twenty minutes of deliberating, I decided it was time to take action. I took a deep breath, got out of my car, and headed back to the building.

I knocked on Cdr. Porter’s open door. Sir, permission to enter?

I told you to get out, Herman. I have no time for you, and neither does this command.

With all due respect, Commander. I entered and stood before his desk. I saw Lcdr. Hammer’s astonished stare of disbelief.

I have given this thought, Commander, and, as I see it, the Navy selected me to be an officer with a submarine communications designator. That means it is for the needs of the Navy, and I have been sent here as a communications officer, not as a submariner. I am reporting as ordered, sir, and I intend to follow through with my orders and qualify for the position I was sent here for. It is up to you to give me that opportunity. Whether I am successful or not will remain to be seen. But, sir, I’m not going anywhere. I stood straight, shoulders back, waiting for his reaction.

He glared at me, and I thought he was going to explode. Then he slumped down in his chair, looked from me to Hammer, and turned back to me. Are you for real, Herman?

He’s got guts, Bob, Hammer said. You have to admit that. I’d give him a chance. You at least know he’ll never quit on you.

Cdr. Porter, breathing normally now, appeared to be sitting more comfortably. I have to be getting soft, he said. Okay, we’ll comply with your orders. But I am telling you right now, Herman, you don’t have a prayer at qualifying here, let alone competing with your peers.

His eyes stern, he declared, In fact, I’ll bet right now you won’t make six months in this command, and your military career will be over within a year. Report to the front office tomorrow morning for duty. Now get out of here.

I drove home with a smile on my face. I felt proud of how I handled myself in this encounter. Odds might be against me as I entered this new world of communications in the Silent Service, but I believed the Navy had a reason, and I accepted the challenge. I would report for work tomorrow and prove Cdr. Porter wrong. I was no quitter and I would vindicate the Navy’s confidence shown by their decision to select me to this elite group of officers.

That afternoon, Mary, my wife of nine years, sat across from me at our kitchen table. Our two little boys, Christopher and Scott, were with their godparents, the Newsoms, who thought we could use a little privacy after being separated the past four months. Mary could read me like a book, and as soon as I looked into her eyes, I knew I might as well be totally honest and tell her exactly what took place with my check-in interview.

She listened, not interrupting or changing her expression, until I said, I was thrown out of the commander’s office and told never to come back because I’m not qualified in submarines. In fact, he said I’d never qualify as a watch officer and would be out of the Navy in a year.

I quickly added, I didn’t want to upset you, but I’m glad I told you.

Mary continued to stare at me. Then she burst out laughing. I wish I could have seen his face when you walked back into his office. I’m so proud of you.

Thanks, but he has a good point. There was a chief petty officer in the front office, and before I met with the commander, he told me the other two new LDO ensigns had checked in weeks ago and had been chiefs with over twelve years’ active duty. Plus, I know they will be dolphin wearers. I am behind, and I still don’t know what is expected of me. What’s worse is no one seems to know.

Well, whatever it is, someone saw something in you and believes in you. Another thing going for you, honey, is they don’t know you. This isn’t the first time the Navy has said you can’t succeed. I mean, they officially pronounced you dead once, remember? And you have me in your corner now. I have some years as a Navy wife now, and between us, we can do anything. Right? Isn’t that what we agreed on seven years ago when you asked me to join this outfit?

I smiled and nodded in agreement. Mary had become a great supporter of my career. She was right. When I left Commander Porter’s office this morning, I was full of confidence. Stand by, world—Rich Herman will succeed. Failure is not an option.

I took Mary’s hand and hugged her. We have had quite the ride, haven’t we? Sometimes it’s good to remember how we got here.

Chapter 2

Nine years earlier

January 1970, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Honorably discharged from the Navy after four years active duty, I returned home and started up where I had left off at the University of Minnesota. I had a simple plan; at least, I thought it was a simple plan. I’d continue my education, majoring in math and physics, live at home with my parents, and use the GI Bill to pay for my books and tuition. To cover other expenses, I got a job as a management assistant for social welfare programs at the agency where my mother was the director’s executive assistant.

A girl who worked for my mom had kindly been writing to me while I was deployed overseas, and I wanted to take her out to repay that favor, so I had called her the first day I was home. I remembered Mary as a short, heavy-set teen with braces and acne. That evening, when she opened the door, there stood a still petite, but now trim, young woman with long blond hair, near-perfect teeth, and smooth complexion. After we began dating, our relationship got serious quickly, and we planned to marry in the summer.

Life was great, and then, in just a few months, our whole world turned upside down. And, yes, once again it involved the ever-present Vietnam and our families’ controlling presence.

I found that my four years in the military gave me a maturity and self-confidence lacking in some younger classmates. Meanwhile, many students were caught up in Vietnam protests. More than once, I had to force my way through a crowd blocking the entrance to classrooms. I would hold my military ID against my forehead and push through, saying I served my country, was proud of it, and now wanted my education. They would allow me entry, but some would spit on me, and most shouted I was a baby-killer.

College protests grew nationwide, and then on May 4, 1970, the Ohio National Guard fired on a group of protesters at Kent State University, killing four and injuring nine. The country had enough; colleges and universities across the nation closed down. I received an incomplete grade for all my classes, losing a whole semester; the reopening of schools was unknown.

Mary and I married in June and began working and waiting for schools to reopen so I could resume my studies. Mary’s parents constantly dropped by to check on us, bring food, and stick around for dinner. They were always full of advice. I accepted they were having a hard time letting their only daughter, the baby of the family, be out on her own, but in truth, it was becoming more and more uncomfortable having them around all the time.

Then, in July, my older brother, Louie, was arrested for domestic violence after firing a gun at his wife; he received a five-year sentence in a federal penitentiary. From an early age, he had been an insulin-dependent diabetic, addicted to pain-killers, and emotionally unstable. Throughout my teen years, my parents had come to rely on my taking care of him; now they felt they had let him down and assumed I would share in their guilt. Although I was sorry to see him in such a deplorable state, I thought prison might do him some good, and I looked forward to carrying on with my life the next few years without the burden of his care and well-being hanging over my head.

I did return to school when it reopened in the fall, and Mary and I went on with our lives until the following spring when we decided to take an honest look at ourselves. After making a list of the pros and cons, we decided we needed to make a clean break from our families and continue our lives elsewhere, even if it meant putting my schooling on the back burner for a while. She knew I always spoke fondly of Norfolk, Virginia, so together we made a big decision, and I called Mark Newsom.

Since we were kids growing up in Minneapolis, Mark and I had always called each other cousins. A chief petty officer (CPO), he and his wife, Patti, had been my closest friends since I joined the Navy and arrived in Norfolk back in 1966, reporting to my first ship. When I called, I told them about wanting to make a fresh start and asked if we could stay with them until we found our own place. Although the Newsoms were a family of seven, with Mark Jr. only six months old and four children from Patti’s first marriage, they didn’t hesitate and said a room was always available.

Three weeks later, Mary and I had given notice and left our jobs. With all our belongings in a four-by-eight-foot U-Haul, we headed to make our new home in Norfolk. We arrived May 22, 1971, with $700 to our name.

Chapter 3

May 1971, Norfolk

I found it difficult to get a decent job in Norfolk—apparently having either too much education or not enough. Employers seemed to fear I’d leave as soon as I found a better job. In June, we learned Mary was pregnant. While we were thrilled, I knew I had to find work fast, any way I could. So at my next interview, I told the manager I was a high school dropout, married with a child on the way, and I got a job: bread truck delivery man.

But before I started work, a phone call changed my fate. Dr. Sheila Wade, Norfolk Social Service Bureau director, called to say she had received a letter from my previous boss, the head of the Minneapolis Department of Social Services, highly recommending that I be hired as a social worker. I had interviewed at the Norfolk agency two weeks ago and assumed I wouldn’t get the job. Now, Dr. Wade conducted a phone interview, liked my background, and with the glowing recommendation, I was hired.

Mary and I finally could breathe easier. We rented a two-bedroom home not far from Mark and Patti, and through one of Mark’s retired Navy contacts, we bought three inexpensive rooms of furniture. We didn’t have much, but we had a roof over our heads, friends, and our health. We were comfortable and happy.

Mark, as team manager, recruited me to play on his softball team, and Mary and Patti came to all our games. Mary and I always set aside a few dollars to join our friends for a beer and soda after the games at Buddy’s Bar and Grill, the team’s sponsor.

We both loved to bowl, but the cost of joining a league was out of the question. Then Mark came up with the idea of having Mary and me register as substitutes. We didn’t belong to any team but were called regularly to fill in for others, so they covered our fees. As I managed to maintain an average over 180 and Mary around 145, we were in high demand.

Mary, who seemed to have an easy pregnancy, was due at the beginning of March. On February 28, 1972, we were watching the evening news when I said, Hey, let’s get some exercise, and maybe you can have a Leap Year baby. We both laughed and went for a walk, Mary waddling, around the block until she had enough. At 5 a.m., her water broke, and Christopher Charles Herman was born that afternoon in Norfolk General Hospital. Our son was destined to have a birthday every four years.

I loved my job, and after a year, I advanced to a supervisory position, heading a unit of five social workers. This responsibility boosted my ego but did nothing to help me financially. Meeting with the director to discuss my future, I learned what I already knew—there are no high-paying jobs in the social service field, regardless of your education.

Mary and I were living payday to payday, barely making ends meet. Our priority was always providing for our baby first. To make a little extra, I managed to sell my O-negative blood for $15 at one of the two local blood banks. Despite medical advice not to give blood more than monthly, I would rotate locations, giving every two weeks. We would use the money to buy Chris something special, then have one night out splurging on fast food and a six-pack of cheap beer.

It was time to think of our future.

I met with Mark, definitely a career Navy man, and his friend Dave Gant, a Navy senior chief specializing in career development, who provided me all the options available. Bottom line was, although the talk was always about the U.S. withdrawing and reducing forces and manpower requirements, our country was still actively involved in Vietnam.

The Navy had requirements for certain ratings, and radiomen were in high demand. With my strong record from my first enlistment, if I were to reenlist, Senior Chief Gant said he could guarantee I would reenter as an E-5, second-class petty officer. I would lose the longevity from the time I was out but would get credit for the four years I had served.

I would have to agree to go back on sea duty, but Gant was sure that, for a good case of scotch, orders to a ship homeported in Norfolk would not be a problem. He then went over the current military pay scale. It gave me a lot to think about.

Chapter 4

September 14, 1972

You know, the last time I faced this kind of decision, I had just received my draft notice, I said. That was almost seven years ago. I came out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee and handed one to Mary as she settled onto the living room couch. I took my usual seat in my easy chair. Mary knew the story of how I had taken that letter, unopened, straight to the recruiter in 1965 and joined the Navy. It’s not any easier this time, but I sure am glad you are making it with me.

It seems we’re always making important decisions, she said with a sigh. I would have thought our biggest decision would have been getting married, but that was an easy one. Then leaving family and moving here. Of course, having Chris was a big one and by far the best one we’ve ever made.

She smiled, looking toward the bedroom where our six-month-old son was sleeping, then turned back to me. Let’s go over this one more time and make sure we didn’t overlook something. This is going to affect not only our immediate future, but our lives—and our children’s—forever. We have to get this right.

I nodded. I’ll get the checklist. We had found that making a list of pros and cons, along with things to be done, worked well in our marriage. We discussed everything, always knew who had what responsibility. When decisions were made, we didn’t look back or place blame. Our list had gotten so popular that our family and friends joked, Is it on the list?

I started. Paperwork completed. Check. We continued down the page, marking off every item until finally I said, And last, but not least, haircut. I had been to the barber that day and had my shoulder-length locks cut away. Mary looked at me, we both laughed and together said, Big check.

She came over and hugged me. I not only trust you, honey; I believe in you. Let’s do this.

I picked up the phone, dialed the